


Choices

by AnxiousBich



Series: Always Universe [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Marijuana, OT3, OT7 (mention) - Freeform, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Stan gets some TLC, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 11:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13293999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnxiousBich/pseuds/AnxiousBich
Summary: Richie tries to show Eddie that going to clubs and having one night stands are a good time. Then Eddie takes him home and shows him how wrong he is.





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so incredibly bad at summaries (and tags) hot damn.
> 
> I wrote 12,500 words of PWP what the fuck.
> 
> There's references to OT7 but not much. This could even be read as Reddie with an open relationship *shrug*
> 
> I wonder if this beats The Room in length of a sex scene.

            The music is thumping loudly, there are bodies writhing everywhere, and the smell of alcohol, body sweat, and way too much cologne and perfume permeates the building. Eddie wonders if it lives in the walls at this point. He can see people laughing, enjoying themselves on the dance floor, and Eddie… doesn’t get it. He just feels sort of exhausted by the entire experience if he’s being honest. He’s 23 but realizing how much he doesn’t enjoy any of this makes him feel like an old man. Richie, who’s dancing between two moderately attractive women who clearly aren’t wearing bras don’t seem to share his feelings on the matter.

            He sips his ginger ale and watches Richie with amusement behind his eyes, because yeah, he might actually be a grandpa in a young person’s body but he’d much rather be high off his ass in his own home than drunk around a bunch of strangers, thank you very much. He doesn’t really notice someone has slid up beside him until they tap him on the shoulder. When he looks, there’s a guy with a very white smile and perfectly quaffed hair looking back at him.

            “Can I buy you a drink?” the stranger asks.

            “I already have a drink,” Eddie says back, lifting his half a glass of ginger ale with the thin straw ginger ales always seem to come with for some fucking reason. The man chuckles.

            “I mean a real drink,” he replies, moving in closer under the guise of being heard over the music. Eddie makes a noise of confusion.

            “Is this not a real drink?” the man is beginning to look less amused.

            “Unless it’s got a splash of vodka, no,” the handsome man says back smoothly.

            “I’m good,” Eddie says, turning his attention back to the dance floor, scanning for Richie who he’s lost track of, effectively dismissing the stranger. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the man furiously stand and disappear into the throng of people.

            “Well that was plain just hard to watch,” Richie’s comments from Eddie’s left. When he looks, Richie is leaning against the bar, sweat making the hair stick to his forehead a little. “He was flirting with you, you know?”

            “Yeah, I know,” Eddie replies with a shrug. Richie looks genuinely surprised by this.

            “He’s good looking and he was practically eye fucking you,” Richie points out with a small laugh, looking over Eddie in his tight knee length black capris and the shirt Bev hand made for him - a form fitting dark purple knitted vest that has a collared long sleeve shirt underneath with made of a light shear material. Bev called it ‘Nerdy Cheque.’ Richie called it ‘hot as fuck.’ “You don’t wanna go home with him? Or at least a stall?”

            Eddie’s face scrunches up at the thought. “And I’m guessing you would?”

            “Maybe I would,” Richie replies with a shrug and a dirty grin.

            “What about those girls? You going home with them?” Eddie asks.

            “Not sure yet. Why? You jealous?” Richie asks, teasing as he moves around to Eddie’s other side and slips into the seat the flirty stranger had left vacated. Eddie turns his head, watching him go. It was said as a joke, but Eddie has the impression it’s a much more loaded question than Richie was leading on.

            Eddie actually scoffs, giving Richie a flat look. Richie looks mock offended.

            “And what exactly do I have to be jealous of?” Eddie asks.

            “I don’t know, me getting it on with two gorgeous beauts,” Richie replies smugly. Eddie drinks the last of his ginger ale and puts it on the counter with a clink, turning sideways in his seat so he’s fully facing Richie.

            “So let me get this straight, you think I’d be jealous that I’m not getting shit faced,” Eddie sticks out one finger, “Going home with some stranger who could easily be riddled with diseases,” a second finger, “Having awkward sex,” another finger, “And an even awkward-er morning-after coupled with a huge migraine,” Eddie finished his list with one final finger. Richie opens his mouth to give a counter argument but Eddie holds up a silencing hand.

            “When I _could_ be going home where Stan,” Eddie glances at the watch on his wrist, 1:13am, “will be getting home from work and be in serious need of some stress relief. I think getting high and fingering Stan until he cries then watching a movie sounds like a better use of my time.” Richie’s eyes glaze over while they track the way Eddie’s fingers are drumming on the bar counter top, slow and enticing. Richie finally snaps out of it.

            “And how do you know Stan will be down with that?” Richie shoots back, unwilling to admit defeat quite yet.

            Eddie shrugs without concern and moves his fingers to drum against his lips instead, “Then these guys are working for me for the night,” he says it casually, like talking about the weather but he feels smug satisfaction when Richie’s eyes darkened.

            “Fuck, you’re a genius,” Richie admits, his voice dropping to a low tone that makes Eddie shiver. Eddie grins victoriously. Richie grips Eddie behind the back of his knees and stands, moving into the space between Eddie’s thighs. He towers over Eddie but he leans in close. Eddie tilts his head back and stretches his arms up to wrap around Richie’s shoulders, clenching his knees around Richie’s waist. Richie cups Eddie’s cheek and plants a firm kiss to Eddie’s lips.

            “Thank you for finally noticing,” Eddie quips back breathlessly.

            “Let’s get the fuck outta here.” Eddie grins and pulls his keys from his pocket with a jingle.

            When they get home, the house is mostly silent except for the shower running in the upstairs bathroom.

            “Go shower and brush your teeth,” Eddie says the moment they’re through the door, pushing Richie towards their second unoccupied bathroom. Richie rolls his eyes and goes slack, making Eddie work harder. Eddie groans and pushes more roughly. “Fuck you, Richie, I wanna catch him in the bath,” he says urgently. Richie laughs.

            “I bet you do,” he leers. Eddie slips out from behind Richie’s lax body, making the tall man pinwheel his arms to catch himself at the loss of support. Eddie heads for the sink washing his hands thoroughly before prepping his toothbrush while Richie takes off his shirt and turns on the faucet.

            “Get under your nails and order from that Chinese place,” he adds around his tooth brush, taking only a second to let his eyes flicker over Richie’s body while the lanky man kicks off his jeans.

            “Bossy Bossy,” Richie mocks, opening and closing his hand to mime talking.

            Eddie finishes up heads for his room, bypassing the bathroom where he can now hear the bath faucet running. He steps into the bedroom he shares with Stanley, pulls open his bedside drawer, and pulls out a baggie where he has a few joints pre-rolled. He heads for the door then pauses and backtracks, flipping their out of date TV they bought from a yard sale and slips Stan’s favorite relaxation movie into the VCR. He pauses it before it can play on without them then snatches a lighter from his dresser.

            He heads for the bathroom that’s now quiet. He can hear the soft dripping of the faucet hitting the surface of water. He’s hit in the face with thick lavender scented steam when he opens the door - with only 2 bathrooms in a 7 person household doors weren’t often locked - and he slips inside. He finds Stan sunk low in the bathtub, his shoulders, knees, and head poking out of the water. Eddie frowns when he see the vacant look in Stan’s eyes as he stares at his own knees. It’s nearly 2am and Eddie is sure he’s only been home about 20 minutes. Eddie shuts the door and kneels down beside the tub, tucking the joint behind his ear, and crossing his arms on the rim of the bath.

            “Hey,” Eddie greets quietly. Stan just turns his head to look at him, his eyes are heavy and tired. Eddie reaches up and wipes a drop of water that’s dripped free of Stan’s water flattened curls. He frowns at the small dot of glitter by Stan’s ear but doesn’t point it out.

            “Thought you and Richie were out,” Stan mumbles, voice heavy and slow with exhaustion and defeat.

            “Rather be here,” Eddie says honestly with a shrug. “He’s in the shower, then he’s ordering from that place you like,” he explains and his heart is heavy when he sees actual tears spring to the corner of Stan’s eyes. “Want a massage?” he asks. Stan looks back at his knees and nods silently.

            Eddie stands while Stan scoots forward in the tub, tightening himself into a ball to give Eddie space. Eddie rolls his capris up as far as he can and slips his feet into the water, it reaches a good few inches below the rolled fabric, and sits on the thickest part of the tub edge. Stan slides back, careful to keep his wet head off Eddie’s knees. Eddie pulls the joint from behind his ear and the lighter from his pocket. He lights it, taking a small hit before silently offering it to Stan.

            Stan takes it with damp pruney fingers and takes a slow deep hit. His shoulders relax as he blows out, smoke mixing with thick steam. Eddie reaches down and grips Stan’s heat reddened shoulders, slowly digging his thumbs into tense muscles. Stan groans deep in his chest, his head dropping forward with his chin digging into his chest, holding the joint over the edge of the tub carefully. Eddie smiles and works the muscles deftly while Stan periodically remembers to take small hits. Eddie takes it from him after a few minutes of deep concentration on a particular knot and takes a few hits himself, leaving only about a quarter left, just in time for Richie to poke his damp head in with a pamphlet in his hand. He slips in, wearing only low hanging sweats and his glasses, and closes the door before too much steam can escape.

            “Woo, smells like a party in here,” Richie whistles, his voice obscenely loud compared to the quiet tones Eddie has been using. Eddie can feel Stan’s shoulders getting tense again under his hands and he shoots Richie a scathing look. Richie glances between the two and snatches the last of the blunt, smoking it in 3 quick hits before stubbing it out in the decorative ashtray they have on the counter. “Chill, Stanny,” Richie says in a much quieter voice, “Just asking what you want.” He holds up the menu.

            Stan maons lowly when Eddie dug his thumb into a spot right at the base of Stan’s neck, “Everything.” Richie laughs while Eddie feels a flush rise to his cheeks and heat pool in his abdomen at the unintentionally sexiness of the statement.

            “Mmm, say that again,” Richie teases while he gets on his knees beside the tub and laughs again when Stan rolls his eyes.

            Eddie’s fingers edge towards Stan’s hair while the two best friends quietly look over the menu together, but he stops himself. He’s the only one who really ever gets permission to play with Stan’s hair, but even that was only on occasion. Instead he fingers the short hairs at the base of Stan’s neck.

            “Can I touch? I washed my hands,” he asks quietly.

            Stan points at the fried dumplings, which Richie dutifully puts a little mark next to, while tilting his head back in silent permission. Eddie grins and runs his fingers up Stan’s neck, his short nails scrapping their way along Stan’s skin until his fingers are buried in thick wet hair. Stan shudders and his sentence stutters in his mouth.

            Richie glances up from his reading curiously and laughs. Stan flushes with embarrassment and flips Richie the bird. Richie leans in and lays a loud smacking kiss on Stan’s cheek. “Cute, cute, cute!” he coos. Stan looks at him with tired furious eyes and Richie is up and out of the door before anyone can react, laughter echoing down the hall.

            From the room across the hall, Bill’s annoyed half-awake voice calls, “Shut it, Richie!” Richie laughs louder.

            Stan sighs and leans his back against Eddie’s legs while Eddie continues to massage Stan’s scalp, careful to halt the moment he feels resistance to avoid getting caught on a knot.

            “He’s such an ass,” Stan grumbles, his eyes closed and his voice already sounding much more relaxed.

            “Yeah, sorry about that,” Eddie apologizes, “I kind of talked him out of going home with some girls.” Stan actually twists around to stare at Eddie incredulously, the movement causes Eddie’s fingers to slide from their hold and instead rest on Stan’s shoulders. Eddie can see the bags that have formed under Stan’s eyes after weeks of long hours going to class and studying mixed with a horrible retail job. Eddie bites his lip to rein in the urge to lean in and press a kiss to his forehead.

            “You talked _Richie_ _Tozier_ out of a one night stand?” Stan asks, tone filled with doubt. “Let’s say I believe you, how the hell did you do that?”

            Eddie grins mischievously. He leans in so that his lips are nearly touching Stan’s ear and Stan frowns in confusion but obediently leans in. “I told him I wanted to watch you come on my fingers,” he whispers, his voice low and husky, letting his warm breath puff over Stan’s ear while one of his hands dips below the water to brush finger tips along Stan’s naked hip. Stan gives a full body shiver and starts going red to the tips of his ears. Eddie pulls away and shrugs nonchalantly, his voice returning to its normal quality, “If you want.”

            Stan stares at Eddie with blown eyes and Eddie can’t help feeling pride and arousal brewing in his gut. Stan swallows thickly with a click. “I’m… I’m exhausted and I don’t know if I’d have the energy to…,” Stan glances down at Eddie’s crotch. Eddie frowns and shakes his head.

            “Hey, no no,” he says quickly, leaning in and pressing a firm kiss to the side of Stan’s skull, getting water all over his face in the process but not really giving a shit. “I’m totally fine, I wanna help you relax,” he explains, rubbing Stan’s shoulders. “If you don’t want to, we can just eat and I put your favorite in the VCR.”

            “The Princess Bride?” Stan asks, his voice small like he’s embarrassed at the childish choice that clashes with his perpetually adult image. Eddie grins and nods. He gives into his earlier urge and presses a soft affectionate kiss to Stan’s forehead.

            “Waters getting cold,” he points out, stroking Stan’s hair back from his face with the palm of his hand. “Come on,” he adds, standing and stepping out. He pulls the fresh towel off the counter that Stan had left there and holds it open. Stan rolls his eyes.

            “I can dry myself off, y’know,” he grumbles, stepping carefully out of the tub. Eddie feels his heart race at the sight, eyeing a drop of water that’s sliding down Stan’s abdomen towards the V of his hips. “I’m an adult.” He steps into Eddie’s waiting arms anyway. Eddie laughs and wraps him in the towel, hugging Stan around the middle as he does so. Stan grabs the towel and holds it in place but Eddie doesn’t drop his arms from around the ridiculously tall man, unconcerned by the water soaking into his shirt.

            “ _Fuck_ , you smell good,” he mumbles against Stan’s bare chest. Stan chuckles and rubs his large hand between Eddie’s shoulder blades.

            “How was your night out?”

            “Richie really wanted to show me how fun clubs are, but I just don’t get it,” Eddie sighs, pulling himself away and bending down to uncork the tub. “Everything is sticky and everyone just wants to fuck.” He opens the door, letting the steam billow out into the hall. Stan nods in solidarity with a grimace, following after Eddie down the hall once his feet are fully dried on the bathroom carpet. “How fun can one night stands really be? I’d be constantly freaked out they have some STD or their angry spouse is gonna show up or something.”

            “They can be a little fun,” Stan admits, walking into their shared room while Eddie plops onto his own bed. He dries himself more thoroughly and drops the towel into the hamper before beginning to put on his matching set of pajamas. “Not having to give a shit what they think since you’re not going to see them again anyway and figuring out what gets them going is fun sometimes, might even learn a new trick,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders.

            Eddie picks at a loose thread on his comforter. “I’d rather be with you guys,” he admits quietly and looks a little surprised that it had slipped out of his mouth. Stan stops buttoning his shirt at the half way point and stares at Eddie who feels mortified. Eddie’s heart rate picks up. He was always careful about what he let slip, terrified of the intensity of his own emotions for his friends and frightened of how they’d react if they understood.

            Stan walks over to him and takes Eddie’s hands and pulls him up. He cups Eddie’s cheeks and runs a thumb over a mole just on the edge of Eddie’s jaw before pulling him into a kiss. Eddie goes willingly, leaning into it and running his hands over Stan’s biceps. It’s slow and sweet and it makes Eddie’s toes curl against the carpet.

            Stan pulls away and Eddie bounces on his toes to follow his lips, giving him one more quick peck.

            “Can I get on your bed?” Eddie asks, “I can change.” Stan smiles a small private thing, it’s borderline shy, and it makes Eddie’s heart seize and the butterflies in his stomach go wild.

            “Yeah, sure,” he agrees, “But definitely change.” He touches Eddie’s damp sleeve. Eddie quickly goes to their shared dresser which is predominantly taken over by Eddie’s stuff since Stan hangs most of his clothes. Stan picks up his brush and begins carefully and skillfully brushing his hair while Eddie digs out the silky shorts that Bev had convinced Ben into buying him for Christmas a few years ago and a shirt that belonged to Mike that had ended up in his laundry by mistake. He was practically swimming in it but it was soft and comfortable like the man who it belonged to.

            He presses play on the VCR so the movie begins to play and crawls onto Stan’s bed, propping the pillows up so he can sit with them between his back and the headboard. Stan looks at him and raises a brow curiously. Eddie grins and spread his legs and pats his chest invitingly. Stan rolls his eyes but sets aside his brush and crawls between Eddie’s legs, taking a second to let his fingertips glide over Eddie’s exposed thighs, causing a quiet gasp to escape him. Stan turns around, sits between Eddie’s legs, and lounges backward against Eddie’s chest. Eddie is much small than Stan and Stan’s long legs are nearly hanging off the bed, but he melts comfortably into the gentle embrace as the two watch the opening scene of Fred Savage sick in bed.

            Eddie rubs his hands up and down along the sides of Stan’s ribs, enjoying the warmth against his perpetually chilly fingers.

            He glances at their shared alarm clock and finds its closer to 3am than it is to 2, he grimaces. Stan has a rare day off tomorrow, but he’s an early bird. Eddie wonders how he can convince the man to take the day to rest while half-baked plans filter in and out of his mind. “Better?” Stan nods, eyes fixed on the screen. Eddie’s finger draws circles against one of Stan’s ribs on his right side fascinated by the way Stan’s usually sharp features smooth out with relaxation. He leans in and runs his lips against Stan’s neck slowly, he feels Stan sigh above him. “Okay?” he asks against his neck. Stan nods again.

            He scrapes his teeth against the exposed flesh, the collar of Stan’s button up sleep shirt and his drying curls tickling his cheeks. His fingers move with more intent, brushing over Stan’s wrist and then moving to the small strip of chest that’s exposed from when Stan had neglected to finish buttoning up his shirt. He smiles when Stan squirms and shifts backwards to get a little closer to Eddie’s body heat. He runs his fingers through Stan’s chest hair, a little darker than the dirty blonde hair on his head. Eddie bites his lip against the grin that threatens to break across his face when Stan let’s out a small sigh.

            He can hear footsteps approaching and he knows by the familiar heavy footfalls that it’s Richie. He pulls the collar aside and bites down gently on a spot near Stan’s shoulder, sucking a small hickey into the flesh, something that could be hidden easily. Stan shudders and turns his head to look at Eddie over his shoulder, his eyes dark and his cheeks flushed. Eddie puts his fingers to Stan’s jaw and kisses him deeply, slipping his tongue between his lips despite the awkward angle. Stan runs a hand over Eddie’s leg, right above his knee, making goosebumps rise and his leg hair stand. Eddie gasps quietly.

            “Well, isn’t that pretty,” Richie’s voice filters in from the doorway, his tone much lower and thicker than normal. Eddie looks up and finds Richie with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the doorframe. Eddie’s eyes slip down and he snickers when he spots the tent beginning to form in Richie’s thin sweats.

            “Can he?” Eddie asks against Stan’s ear. Stan rolls his eyes and holds his hand out towards his oldest friend. Richie practically sprints towards them, nearly elbowing Stan in the gut in his haste to get on the bed.

            “I’m already regretting this,” Stan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

            Richie straddles Stan’s waist, on his knees with his ass not quite on the other man’s lap, and his hands cradling Stan’s face. His expression is serious which throws Stan for a loop. “We’re gonna make you feel so good,” he promises, leaning in to plant a searing kiss on Stan’s lips, his fingers working the last few buttons open, pushing the fabric aside to run his fingers over the exposed flesh a little frantically, finally pressing his weight into Stan’s lap.

            Moans and wet noises layer on top of the background noise of the movie. Eddie can already see the aggression entering the kiss in the way Stan sits up more fully, his fingers digging into Richie’s hips roughly and the way Richie grinds down on his lap. They always seem to draw that out in each other. Eddie reaches over and gently takes hold of Richie’s wrist, pulling his hand free from Stan’s face, drawing his attention. Richie pulls away, his lips spit slick and swollen, and his eyes half lidded as he looks at Eddie questioningly.

            “Slow,” Eddie says, voice carefully soft, bringing Richie’s hand to his face and planting a gentle kiss to the tip of Richie’s middle finger. Richie’s eyes smooth over with gut wrenching fondness. “We’re trying to help him _relax_ , remember?” he reminds him with a small smile. Richie glances over at Stan, eyeing the bags, and nodding in understanding.

            He leans in and plants a much softer kiss to Stan’s lips. “We’ll take care of you,” he says, guiding Stan back into a lounging position. Stan stares at Richie, doubting the Trashmouth’s ability to hold back, but goes without complaint. Stan pretends to be adjusting his position, squirming backward, and grinning when Eddie’s hands shoot out to grip his hips and he chokes on his next breath.

            In retaliation, Eddie reaches down and runs his hands up Stan’s thighs, grazing over the bulge forming in his pants. “Don’t be a prick,” Eddie hisses into Stan’s ear, making Stan laugh breathlessly. Richie grins and kisses along Stan’s throat, rubbing his thumbs into Stan’s hip bones. Stan lets his head fall back against Eddie’s shoulder, going pliant under their hands. His eyes are half lidded, eyes straying to their old television while the two work his body. He looks over when Richie shifts, moving so that he’s between Stan’s legs, hooking Stan’s legs around his waist.

            Richie’s hands slide up Stan’s inner thighs, digging his thumbs into the muscles just below Stan’s now very obvious erection. Stan gasps and arches his back into the feeling. Eddie takes the opportunity to slide his hands under Stan to grab at his ass, but struggles with the angle and his too short arms.

            Richie decides to intervene, moving lower and hooking Stan’s legs over his shoulders, giving Eddie a better angle. Eddie slips his hands over Stan’s hips and into the waist band of Stan’s pants to firmly grasp the soft globes and makes a small noise when Stan groans. Eddie bites his lip and spreads Stan’s cheeks.

            “Fuck,” Stan gasps his back arching again. Eddie skims a finger over Stan’s hole and feels his breath leave him when it twitches against the pad of his finger.

            “Shhh relax,” he pants against Stan’s ear while Richie sucks and licks his way along Stan’s chest and abdomen. He moves his finger in small circles, using a small amount of pressure with every cycle, eliciting a frustrated groan from Stan.

            “Tease,” Stan whispers. Once Stan’s taut body slowly melts against him again, Eddie pushes the tip of his dry finger in, and Stan’s mouth falls open in a perfect O. Eddie’s hips unintentionally jerk against Stan’s lower back. Richie looks up at Stan and Eddie from under his lashes, sucking a hickey into Stan’s pec. “Fuck,” he whimpers, digging his heels into Richie’s shoulders while Eddie presses the finger in a little deeper. The dry stretch stings but its familiar and leaves his skin feeling oversensitive.

            “Good?” Eddie asks, his voice shaky, pulling his finger back slowly and enjoying the way his finger drags along Stan’s walls and how the tight muscle is practically cutting off his circulation. Eddie can feel Stan’s hole clenching as his finger slides free and Eddie might just jizz in his shorts right now. “Richie,” Eddie says, drawing the man’s attention instantly. Richie looks like he’s vibrating out of his skin with the need to do _more._ “Lube.”

            Richie immediately moves into action, shifting one of Stan’s legs off his shoulder while he reaches for Stan’s side table and finds the small bottle that’s in the perfectly organized drawer. Eddie slips his hand out of Stan’s pants and holds it out to Richie expectantly. Richie pops the cap and pours a small amount on Eddie’s fingers which he quickly rubs between them to generate some warmth. Richie reaches for Stan’s waist band and begins to tug them down.

            Stan lifts his hips, but stops Eddie’s hand with a firm grip on his wrist. For a horrible second, Eddie thinks he’s messed up, but Stan’s raspy voice says, “Towel.”

            Richie immediately launches himself off the bed and scrambles towards the hall closet where he pulls out a normal sized towel and a small wash cloth. He returns and tucks the larger one under Stan’s waist and sets the smaller aside for later, before slipping back into place with Stan’s legs over his shoulders. Eddie immediately slips his hand back under Stan and presses his now lubed finger against the waiting hole. Richie licks his lips, saliva flooding his mouth at the sight of the cut cock now at eye level.

            He glances up and he and Eddie make eye contact. Something passes between them and at the same time that Richie leans in with his tongue out, ready to run over the vein that ran along the side of Stan’s cock, Eddie presses his finger all the way up to the knuckle in one smooth motion. Stan’s hips nearly lift completely off the bed and his fingers bite into Eddie’s legs. His breath leaves him in a loud gasp. He bites his lips and squirms his hips while Eddie wiggles his finger, not thrusting quite yet. Richie on the other hand is already moving forward, pulling the head into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks.

            “ _Slow_ ,” Eddie warns again, sounding exasperated by Richie’s need to rush. Richie pulls off Stan with a pop, making the man beneath him groan. Richie rolls his eyes.

            “You’re such a nag today,” Richie grumbles. Stan actually snorts a little while Eddie looked affronted. Stan’s amusement is cut short when Eddie twists his finger in a skillful move that has Stan trembling all over. Eddie nibbles Stan’s ear, smugness radiating from the look he gives Richie. Richie’s cheeks grow red and he leans over Stan’s shoulder to kiss Eddie deeply, nearly bending Stan in half. Stan hisses at the pull on his stiff muscles and smacks Richie in the shoulder for his trouble.

            Eddie takes the opportunity to press in a second finger that slips in easily beside the first. Stan’s leg joints are still throbbing dully from the pain of being pushed passed their limits but its being rapidly drowned out by the endorphins flooding his body.

            “ _Fuck_ ,” Stan moans. Eddie is beginning to feel intoxicated, the light high still present mixed with the noises falling from Stan’s open mouth. The scent of the lavender bath oil is making his head spin.

            “God, why are you so pretty,” Eddie groans, dragging his fingers slowly out before thrusting them back in quickly, causing a filthy wet noise, “It’s just not _fair_.” Stan lets out a quiet whimper that sends sparks running all over Eddie’s skin. Richie is frozen over Stan where he’d been about to lean in and go back to sucking, but instead he’s staring at the fucking magic act Eddie is performing.

            “ _Shit,_ Eds,” Richie chokes out. When he finally drags his eyes up, Eddie looks back at him with aroused amusement that sends Richie’s heart tripping in his chest.

            “You gonna suck his dick or what?” Eddie asks, teasing his ring finger against Stan’s asshole. In that moment, Richie wants nothing more than that.

            He raises a flat hand to his own forehead and gives Eddie a salute with a serious expression on his face. “On it, Captain Spaghetti.”

            “For fuck’s sake,” Stan sighs while Eddie stuffs his face into Stan’s neck to disguise his amusement with exasperation. Eddie’s head shoots back up when Stan’s hips are suddenly lifting up off his lap with a sharp gasp. He looks over Stan’s shoulder and locks eyes with Richie whose nose is buried in Stan’s maintained pubic hair, expertly deep throating him. Stan’s thighs are noticeably shaking. Eddie reaches down with his free hand and gently guides Stan’s hips back onto his lap, stilling his fingers deep inside him.

            Stan reaches down and grips Richie’s damp hair roughly, the movement purposeful. Eddie watches Richie’s eyelids flutter and he can tell by the jump in Stan’s hips that Richie’s throat is flexing around Stan’s cock.

            “You close?” Eddie asks against Stan’s ear, laughter in his voice. He already knows the answer by the way Stan’s hips are desperately rocking against his fingers.

            “Fuck you,” Stan breathes out, voice shaking. Eddie grins.

            “Trying,” he says back, nipping at Stan’s ear, putting some pressure behind his ring finger as he curls the fingers already pressed in deep. Just as Eddie is about to give Stan what he clearly wants, what he’d need to push him over the edge, there’s a banging at their front door.

            “Seriously!?” Bill’s voice can be heard yelling from next door.

            Richie’s head immediately pops up. “Oh shit, the food is here,” He says, a line of saliva connecting his plump lips to Stan’s cock head.

            “I swear to god if you don’t make me come in the next five minutes, I’ll cut your fucking testicles off,” Stan warns between gritted teeth. Richie glances between Stan and Eddie then down at Stan’s lap then at the door towards the hallway before looking back at Stan with determination. He dives in, easily deep throating him again, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head with a lot more vigor than Eddie had been allowing.

            Eddie thrusts his fingers with matching abandon. There is another, more impatient, banging on the door that’s quickly followed by Bill punching the wall between them. Eddie pulls his fingers nearly all the way out and watches Stan shift and squirm desperately, head thrown back against Eddie’s shoulder and his chest heaving. Eddie roughly pushes all three fingers in to the knuckle and curves them, rocking them back and forth in short deep thrusts. Stan claws at Richie’s hair and cries out, his hips jerking, shooting down Richie’s throat. Eddie presses his lips against Stan’s cheek and whispers sweet nothings while he fucks his fingers between the fluttering muscles.

            Richie swallows everything Stan has before he’s pulling off and immediately flinging himself out of the room after the third aggressive bang on their door.

            “What the FUCK, Richie!?” Bill screams as Richie sprints down the hall. A second later Bill is standing in their doorway, his tired angry expression quickly melting away to one of shock. Eddie stares at Bill under low eyelids, holding Stan close with his free arm around his middle while he slips his fingers free.

            “If you want to sleep at all tonight, you should probably just leave,” Eddie advices his friend flatly. Bill’s eyes jump all over the place, Stan’s legs sprawled out on the bed, his spit slick flaccid dick still hanging out of his pajama pants, his hickey riddled chest that’s rising and falling with each heavy pant, before finally settling on the lax blissed out expression on Stan’s face. When Bill’s eyes meet Eddie’s lust darkened ones, Bill’s cheeks flush red. Eddie raises a brow at him, curious what Bill will do next.

            Bill grabs the door frame and physically drags himself away from the sight while muttering, “G-god fucking damnnit, st-st-upid fucking Lit midterm, what the f-fuh-fuh- _fuck_.”

            Eddie laughs into Stan’s neck. He shifts Stan a little and grabs the small towel that had been tossed aside and begins wiping Stan down, starting with the drying spit on his neck and chest before going down to wipe away the saliva and lube between his legs, then finally uses it wipes his own fingers off. He closes one eye and aims before tossing the balled up fabric into the hamper. He hisses a soft victorious yes when it goes directly in before pulling the larger towel under Stan’s hips out from under him and doing the same with a little more of a struggle. He squirts some hand sanitizer on his hands and rubs them vigorously together, focusing it on his fingers and under his nails.

            Once the liquid is dried he begins fixing up Stan’s clothes with a bit of a struggle when Stan’s jelly legs don’t quite cooperate. He buttons up Stan’s shirt quickly, smoothing his hand down the rumpled fabric, then does it again just because he can. He presses a kiss to the side of Stan’s head.

            “You okay?” he asks. Instead of answering, Stan makes a small noise in the back of his throat, eyes fixed on the movie that was only about 15 minutes in. “Aw, I made you nonverbal,” Eddie says, a grin stretching over his face. He presses his grin to Stan’s throat with genuine pride bubbling in his gut.

            “Sh’ up,” Stan mumbles, letting his head flop over where it’s resting on Eddie’s shoulder so he can look at Eddie’s face, his nose brushing against Eddie’s neck. He looks sleepy and relaxed and Eddie presses soft kisses to his forehead and the bridge of his nose.

            “You still wanna eat?” Eddie asks quietly, rubbing his hand over Stan’s ribs affectionately.

            “Mm-hmm,” Stan confirms, his eyes closed. Eddie chuckles. He can hear Richie’s footsteps again, now coupled with the smell of fried rice and dumplings.

            “I think I might have traumatized the delivery guy,” Richie announces the moment he steps into the room, his arms weighed down by Chinese food and paper plates. Eddie’s eye brows shoot up when he realizes how wrecked Richie actually looks. His hair is wild, his lips are puffy, his cheeks are still obviously flushed, and Eddie is pretty sure there’s a small drop of come on Richie’s chin.

            “I think you might be traumatizing me,” Eddie shoots back, “Wipe your chin.” Stan’s eyes flutter open to look at Richie and he groans, covering his face with his hands.

            “God damn it, Richie,” Stan grumbles. Richie reaches up and wipes his chin with the back of his wrist and looks positively gleeful at the sight of the small wet smear he finds there. He laughs loudly while he closes the door behind him with his foot.

            Stan sits up and scoots to the edge of his bed while Richie places the boxes of food the shared desk in the room. He grabs Eddie’s thin sheet and drapes it on the ground between the two single beds. Eddie makes an indigent noise but Richie ignores him and begins pulling the boxes out and placing them on the sheet before sitting cross legged on the floor. Stan slips down onto the sheet and sits down, grabbing a plate from Richie’s hands and immediately starts scooping food onto it. Eddie stretches his legs out on the bed, trying get some feeling back in them.

            He flushes with embarrassment when the cold air draws his attention to the damp spot on the front of his shorts. He tugs Mike’s shirt over his lap, annoyed to find himself still more than a little hard. He tries to ignore it but flinches when he scoots to the edge of the bed and feels his briefs rubs against his sensitive skin.

            Richie looks over at Eddie, already making himself a plate. Stan is leaning back against the bed, contentedly stuffing his face and watching the movie. Richie’s eyes flicks down to where Eddie’s hands are still fidgeting with the hem of the oversized shirt. Richie puts his plate aside, unfolds his ridiculous giraffe legs, stands, and approaches Eddie, towering over him. There’s a dark look in his eyes that makes Eddie’s heart rate spike. Eddie looks up at him from beneath his lashes and places his small hands on Richie’s exposed hipbones.

            “You still rare’in to go?” Richie asks, his voice dropping to a low timber that sends a shiver down Eddie’s spine.

            “Lil’ bit,” Eddie admits, sliding his hands up Richie’s torso as far as they’ll go, his fingers digging into the lower half of Richie’s ribs before sliding them back down slowly, moving inward to run the flat of his palms over Richie’s abs, dragging fingers through Richie’s happy trail. Eddie bites his lip and watches the muscles contract under his fingers.

            “Good,” Richie mumbles, pushing Eddie down onto the bed and covering Eddie’s body with his own, settling between Eddie’s legs. Eddie wraps his legs around Richie’s waist, the shirt sliding up around his stomach to reveal his silky short shorts. Richie groans and presses in close, sliding his hands up Eddie’s thighs, his fingertips slipping under the thin fabric to brush against the hem of Eddie’s tight briefs. Feeling Richie’s cold rings pressing into his heated skin makes Eddie shudder and goosebumps rise along his skin. Richie presses Eddie into the mattress and kisses along his neck.

            Eddie keeps his arms draped over Richie’s shoulders, letting his head roll back with his eyes closed while quiet pleased noises leave his throat. His breath hitches when Richie’s large palm is suddenly between his legs, rubbing firmly. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie watches Richie’s hand reaching blindly, grabbing ahold of the bottle of lube after a few fumbled attempts. Eddie’s brain is getting fuzzy with lust and he presses his nose to Richie’s damp hair and grinds his hips into Richie’s lap, getting lost in the feeling of Richie caging him in.

            “Don’t fuck on my bed,” Stan’s voice suddenly breaks through the bubble they’d formed. When the two look at Stan flatly, Stan merely pops a piece of lemon chicken into his mouth without taking his eyes off the screen. Richie continues to give Stan a flat look as he moves his arms around Eddie’s hips and lifts him up, making Eddie yelp and desperately tighten his legs and arms around Richie. Richie steps over Stan’s strange picnic to cross over to Eddie’s bed where he drops Eddie unceremoniously onto it with a bounce. He immediately gets himself between Eddie’s legs again, all without his eyes ever leaving Stan.

            “You happy now?” Richie asks, voice laced with annoyance.

            “Ye _p_ ,” he replies, chewing on his chicken. Eddie huffs and rolls his eyes, glaring at Richie who is still having a one sided stare off with Stan.

            “I would be more than happy to do this myself if you’d rather bug Bill for the rest of the night,” Eddie grouches. Richie finally looks at him. He reaches up and pinches Eddie’s cheek.

            “Awww is Eddie-kins feeling neglected,” Richie teases. Eddie reaches up and holds Richie’s face tightly between his hands, squishing his cheeks until he has duck lips and his glasses are nearly slipping off his nose.

            “You’re lucky I want your dick or I’d be cutting it off,” Eddie tells him, his expression serious.

            “The amount of threats to my genitals is becoming a concern,” Richie says with some struggle due to Eddie’s tight grip. Eddie pulls both hands off Richie’s face just far enough so that he can bring them back down sharply, slapping both of Richie’s cheeks with a loud SMACK.

            “It’s your dick’s funeral if you don’t wanna take us seriously,” Stan replies with a shrug. Richie shoots Stan a horrified look while Eddie rolls his eyes again and pulls Richie’s face towards him, planting a kiss on his lips and hoping to get his attention back.

            “What the fuck, Stan,” Richie mutters against Eddie’s lips. Eddie swallows down his own amusement, not wanting to encourage them. Eddie sighs and flings a hand out over the side of the bed in Stan’s direction without breaking eye contact with Richie.

            “Stan, I love you,” Eddie says, “But please shut the fuck up.” Stan huffs but doesn’t speak again. Eddie brings his hand back to himself and instead jabs his index finger against Richie’s bare chest. “And _you_ , stop getting distracted while I’m trying to get your dick in me.”

            Instead of renewing Richie’s arousal, his eyes soften with affection, and he plants a loud exaggerated kiss to Eddie’s lips. “When did our little Eddie Spaghetti get such a foul mouth?” Richie directs at Stan but it’s said with deep fondness.

            “Been spending too much time with you,” Stan replies.

            “What did I just say?” Eddie asks, irritated.

            “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Richie apologizes quickly, “I’ll pay attention.” Eddie frowns at him, disbelieving. His suspicion is cut short by Richie giving him a Proper Kiss, the kind that makes his head swim every time he’s on the receiving end of it. Eddie makes a small noise and wraps his arms around Richie’s shoulders, fingers fiddling with the shorter hairs at the nape of Richie’s neck and tightens his legs back around his hips. Richie moans deep his throat when Eddie’s reforming erection presses against Richie’s hip.

            Richie becomes suddenly frantic, reaching down and untying the bow that kept his loose sweats on his hips. Once he has it undone he pulls them down just enough to pull his dick free and reveal his ass to the cold air of the room. Richie hikes Eddie’s hips closer to his body, digging his fingers into the flesh of Eddie’s ass as leverage. Eddie gasps quietly against his lips and whimpers. Richie grins smugly.

            Eddie has always had this weird thing about being quiet in bed and has found even Mike boasting to the others when he’s able to get Eddie to get loud. It was like some fucked up contest with a point system Eddie did not comprehend. The only one who never seemed to participate was Ben and that was only because Ben knew he was the undeniable winner.

            Richie on the other hand is, unsurprisingly, talkative in bed. It’s a blessing and a curse really.

            “Hmm, like that?” Richie hums with a devilish smirk that sends Eddie’s stomach flipping. Richie reaches down with one hand, keeping his other firmly on Eddie’s ass cheek, and grips the base of his own cock. Eddie’s eyes are locked on his wandering hand and just for show Richie moves his dry hand up once and lazily drags it back down, letting his thumb hook on the foreskin enough to reveal more of his red cockhead. Richie makes another one of those chest deep rumbly noises that Eddie can feel where they’re pressed together.

            Eddie bites his lip and thickly swallows the saliva that’s pooled in his mouth. Richie’s eyes are carefully trained on where he’s slowly dragging the tip of his dick over the front seam of Eddie’s silk shorts, just below Eddie’s balls. Eddie’s breath hitches when Richie puts a small amount of pressure. It barely does anything, but the way it causes the fabric of his shorts to pull tighter around his hyper sensitive skin and the fact that there’s only 2 thin layers of fabric keeping Richie’s dick from being pressed against his perineum have sparks racing through him.

            Richie has his lower lip hooked loosely between his teeth and he’s looking at where they’re pressed together like he might be able to wish the clothes away if he stares hard enough. Richie’s eyes suddenly flick up to meet Eddie’s gaze from under his lashes, the effect magnified by his glasses, and Eddie’s heart trips in his chest.

            “Feel that?” Richie breathes out, giving another insistent press. Eddie gives a jerky nod and watches him with wide desperate eyes. He keeps his eyes trained on Eddie’s while he slowly drags his dick downward a little and Eddie’s eyelids flutter and his back arches when the same insistent pressure is right up against his hole. He clenches around nothing, whining. He feels so _empty_. “Fuck,” Richie hisses and his hips jerk a little. Eddie jumps in surprise from the way his shorts are being pulled painfully tight over Eddie’s erection.

            Richie finally gives up on his futile mission to fuck Eddie through his clothes and moves in to press a messy kiss to Eddie’s lips, nipping at them. “How are you even real?” he groans rocking his hips one more time before grabbing at the waist of Eddie’s shorts and tugging them down along with his underwear in one quick motion. They both struggle to get the shorts off Eddie’s legs, nearly resulting in Richie getting kicked in the face. Stan continues watching the movie with heavy eyes.

            Richie waves off Eddie’s embarrassed apologizes and settles back between his naked thighs. They both sigh at the skin on skin contact. Richie kisses him slow and lazy and wraps his long fingers around both their cocks and jerks them at the same sedated pace. Eddie thinks he could come like this, with Richie punctuating each swipe of his thumb over their slick heads with a nip to Eddie’s lips, but he’s _aching_ to be filled.

            He grabs the lube from where Richie had left it and presses it desperately to Richie’s shoulder. Richie groans against his mouth and gives one more jerk of his fist before letting them go and takes the bottle from him.  
            “You’re really desperate tonight, huh?” Richie mumbles against Eddie’s lips. Eddie jabs his middle finger against Richie’s cheek bone roughly and Richie laughs and sits up, towering over Eddie’s form while he pops the lube and drizzles it on his fingers. Eddie watches closely, letting his own hand wander down between his legs when his eyes catch on a stray drop slipping down the back of Richie’s long ring finger. Eddie groans and bucks his hips against his own hand.

            “Do it,” Eddie demands when Richie is taking his sweet time. Richie grins wickedly.

            “Gladly,” he replies, pressing the pad of his middle finger against the slightly resistant muscle. Eddie shivers and feels his hole flutter again, pulling Richie’s finger in. Their mouths drop open in mirrored expressions of shocked pleasure. “Shit, Eds,” Richie moans, gently fucking his finger back and forth in short thrusts that gradually push his finger deeper and deeper.

            Eddie’s eyes slide shut and his head drop back against the bed, hands resting on the bed above his head, letting himself lie back and enjoy the ride. Richie leans over him, carefully making sure Eddie’s leg stays firmly around his waist while he works his finger in up to the knuckle. When Eddie opens his eyes again, Richie is staring down at him, focused on every little shift in Eddie’s expression. A smirk pulls at Richie’s face and Eddie knows what’s coming before it happens. Richie curves his finger, Eddie’s hips jolt, and he takes a sharp breath through his nose. His hand reaches and grabs Richie’s wrist but doesn’t tell him to stop.

            Richie’s finger circles once, twice, before straightening out and withdrawing only far enough to push his index finger in alongside it. Eddie’s toes curl. Richie thrusts them in at a casual pace, his fingers moving with less resistance than when he’d first pushed in. They make a wet sound with each thrust. Richie presses a kiss to Eddie’s flushed sweaty face and twists his fingers, shoving them deep and squirming them as much as he can in the tight space. Eddie’s mouth falls open and his fingers bite into Richie’s arm but it only spurs him on.

            “I could make you come just like this,” Richie pants. Eddie whimpers and shimmies his hips. “Fuck, it’d be so easy.”

            Eddie moves his arms around Richie’s neck and pulls him in close, pressing their foreheads together, his hot breath fanning out over Richie’s face. Richie’s fingers slow down and his eyes are trained on Eddie’s face through foggy lenses. “Richie, please,” Eddie begs quietly. Richie leans in and presses soft kisses to Eddie’s cheeks and lips. He works a third finger in, moving his fingers quickly to make sure Eddie is good and ready before he slips them free and stands.

            “Flip over,” Richie commands, ripping the condom open with his teeth. Eddie’s eyes flicker down to where Richie’s cock is standing proudly, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, and quickly complies. He tugs one of his pillows close before properly getting on all fours. He can feel Richie’s eyes on him the whole time and the heat of it is scorching. He jerks when a hand comes down to rest on the back of his upper thigh. It slides up, making a brief stop to pull his cheeks apart. Eddie whines and resists the urge to hide from the intense gaze. The hand finally slides up further, running along Eddie’s spine, pushing the oversized fabric of Mike’s shirt up Eddie’s torso until it bunched up under Eddie’s arm pits. Richie makes an appreciative humming noise and drags his palm over the smooth hot expanse of Eddie’s back then plants his palm between Eddie’s shoulder blades and gives a guiding push.

            Eddie lets himself be folded over, tucking his arms around the pillow so it’s pressing comfortably against his chest and cheek. Richie helps spread Eddie’s legs a little wider so he’s in a more stable position and perfectly lined up with Richie’s hips. Eddie can feel his toes getting cold from where they’re hanging off the edge of the bed but they’re quickly warmed when Richie finally moves in behind him and his toes press into Richie’s legs. Richie rests his hands on Eddie’s hips, affectionately rubbing his thumbs into the pudgy flesh near his hip bones, while Eddie tries not to tremble.

            Eddie shoves his face into his pillow and gasps as the latex covered tip of Richie’s cock is being pressed against his exposed hole. It’s not enough to go in, just enough to make Eddie’s legs feel weak.

            “You want it?” Richie asks suddenly, folding himself over Eddie’s back and pressing his face into Eddie’s hair and resting his free hand on the bed by Eddie’s arm to keep himself up, the shift causes the tip to slip in just a little, just enough to make him feel the barely there beginning of that familiar stretch. Just enough. Just enough. But it’s not _enough_.

            Instead of responding, he presses his hips back harshly.

            Eddie’s back arches at the sudden fullness, digging his fingers sharply into his pillow, and pressing his forehead into the familiar fabric while his mouth falls open with a shaky moan. Richie’s next breath chokes off about half way through and he shudders all over with a strained, “Holy fuck.” Eddie only gets less than half of Richie inside before he’s stopped by the hand Richie still has wrapped around the base of his dick. Eddie can’t find his voice to beg so he shifts his hips away before pressing them back again a little more insistently. Richie moans into Eddie’s hair and his hips jerk in response to the slow tight drag.

            Eddie makes a frustrated noise and turns his head to shoot Richie a glare over his shoulder and Richie finally gets the hint. He grins at Eddie’s impatient expression, releasing himself and moving his hand to Eddie’s waist before pressing in until his thighs firmly press against Eddie’s. Richie watches with rapt fascination as Eddie’s thick brows shift from their familiar angry downward furrow and instead bunch upward while his tight lips fall open and his eyes become glazed and euphoric. A small gasping noise escapes Eddie’s throat and nothing else but it sets Richie’s blood on fire.

            “So fucking gorgeous, _fuck_ ,” Richie growls, pressing a firm kiss to Eddie’s head when Eddie hides his face again. Richie straightens up, planting his feet on the ground and grips Eddie’s hips more firmly with both hands. He gives a few short deep thrusts, just taking a second to enjoy the tight heat. Eddie’s legs are trembling and he’s panting wetly into his hiding spot. He hadn’t realize how much watching Stan shake apart in his arms had gotten to him until this moment. He just _wanted_.

            “More,” Eddie demands when Richie falls into a rhythm of slow in and out drags that don’t have more than half his dick out at any given time. When Eddie chances another look over his shoulder, Richie looks wrecked and thoroughly distracted by where he’s disappearing and reappearing inside Eddie’s body. Richie has always had a thing with visual stimulation and right now he looks like he’s memorizing every detail he can. But that’s not where his focus needs to be right now. “ _Richie_ ,” Eddie huffs when he goes ignored.

            Richie’s eyes finally meet Eddie’s and he gives him a cheeky grin. He pulls all the way out and presses back in slowly, planting a hand on Eddie’s back, enjoying the way it bows further under his palm with every inch pressed in. Once he’s all the way in again, he gives a quick sharp thrust that makes Eddie fist the blanket and knocks him forward a little. Richie groans and begins moving at a quicker more consistent pace, working himself up into a rhythm that has them both panting and moaning.

            Eddie can feel himself getting into it, the sweat clinging to his brow, the obscene noises they’re making, and the tight heat curling in his gut has him dizzy with desire. He can hear small noises involuntarily slipping from his own throat that are being mostly swallowed up by the pillow, but those aren’t the sounds breaking through his sex-fuzzy brain. He turns his head, his cheek mashed against his pillow while Richie’s sturdy thrusts continue to rock him back and forth. His eyes scan the room for the source of the noise and land on Stan who is… laughing.

            No.

            He’s fucking _giggling_. They’re high, tired, and childlike in nature and completely blowing Eddie’s mind. Considering he’s being fucked into his mattress, Eddie wonders who that says more about: him, Stan, or Richie?

            It’s awkward but he’s able to catch a glimpse of the TV and sees Wesley sitting across from a slumped over dead Vizzini with two goblets of poisoned wine between them. Eddie looks at his friend whose going to be a crazy rich successful Adult accountant, who Eddie has just had sex with, sitting on their apartment floor with Chinese food in his lap while he giggles over a movie he’s seen a _thousand_ times.

            Eddie laughs. Richie stills.

            “Did you just… did you seriously just fucking _laugh_?” Richie asks, offended, his voice high and slightly hoarse, “ _While I’m fucking you_?”

            “No,” Eddie snickers, slipping his hands between his face and his pillow so he can shove his face into his hands to stifle the laughter.

            “At least your dick makes him laugh,” Stan pipes up, falling into another fit of giggles that nearly results in fried rice all over Eddie’s sheet. Eddie snorts and laughs harder into his hands. Instead of voicing his vehement disagreement, Richie stiffens and gasps, his hips making an aborted jerking motion when Eddie unknowingly clenches and unclenches around him with every chortle. Richie pulls out and Eddie yelps in surprise. Eddie flops over onto his side and looks up at Richie, still a little giggly.

            When Eddie catches the absolutely sullen look on Richie’s face, along with his still impressively present erection, the laughter comes back full force and he grips his stomach. He can hear Stan’s drunk-tired giggling echoing back in response. Richie bends over Eddie, planting his hands on either side of Eddie’s head where Eddie is still lying on his side and getting control of himself. Richie looks far less annoyed and more amused than anything. Eddie would give him credit for taking the situation in stride if it weren’t for the fact that there is no way in hell he’s going to do that.

            “My dick really that funny to you, Kaspbrak?” Richie asks, planting a firm kiss to Eddie’s sweaty temple.

            “Ooo, you must be really ticked, whippin’ out the last names,” Eddie teases and looks up at Richie with a flushed sweaty face, still letting out a few odd breathless laughs as he sniffles and wipes a stray tear from under his eye. Richie stares down at him for a long moment then leans in and plants a slow drawn out kiss on Eddie’s lips. Eddie hums happily and curls his fingers into Richie’s hair.

            “He’s certainly whippin’ something out,” Stan says, making himself laugh again. His eyes are barely open where he’s tucked between his bedframe and his side table.

            “Oh God, you must be really exhausted,” Eddie comments, breaking away from the kiss to turn his attention to Stan again, “You actually think you’re funny.”

            “Fuck you, _Eds_ ,” Stan snickers, trying to keep his heavy eyes open.

            Eddie sticks his tongue out, “Ungrateful douche.”

            “I can leave if you guys want to keep making jokes about my dick,” Richie offers with mock genuineness, pulling a hand back as if he’s going to make a move for the door.

            “About time someone other than you was making them,” Stan says.

            Eddie’s eyes widen as if shocked but there’s a smile pulling at his face. “Oh, I’m _sorry_ ,” Eddie says with his own faux genuineness, “Am I getting _distracted_?” Richie quirks a brow and lowers himself onto his elbows so he’s almost nose to nose with Eddie.

            “I would be more than happy to do this myself,” Richie parrot’s Eddie’s words from earlier, trying and failing to fight down the grin splitting his face, “Y’know,” Richie chokes back a snicker, “If you’d rather bug Bill for the rest of the night.” Richie’s breaks off into a laugh while Eddie grabs two fistfuls of Richie’s hair, trying to appear annoyed but unable to get rid of the smile on his face.

            He pulls Richie down, trying to kiss him but they’re both struggling to push their grins down enough to do it. Richie pulls back and stares down at him. Eddie loosens his grip on Richie’s wild curls and instead lets his fingers lightly scratch against his scalp. Eddie feels unadulterated affection bloom in his chest and he thinks he might be seeing it reflected back at him in Richie’s eyes. Richie cups Eddie’s face and leans in. Eddie immediately leans up in response to meet in the middle.

            They kiss slow and unhurried, taking their time working back up to their previous level of urgency, but it doesn’t happen. Eddie feels wholly content to lay on his bed and make out with their erections trapped between them, and despite Richie’s earlier complaints, Richie is pliant and soft on top of him, appearing to be just as comfortable. After a moment, Richie shifts, keeping one foot planted on the ground while he pulls the knee of his other leg up onto the bed.

            Eddie moves to accommodate him, hanging one leg over the knee Richie has on the bed while his other leg hooks onto Richie’s hip, further trapping himself under Richie’s body. Eddie keeps his arms tight around Richie’s neck and they’re pressed so tightly together that the only thing between them is some of Mike’s shirt that’s rolled down. Richie pulls away from the kiss, but their noses and foreheads are still pressed close. Eddie would keep his eyes open but Richie is nothing but a blur at this distance. Richie slides his hand over Eddie’s cheek and runs his thumb along Eddie’s bottom lip before moving his hand to Eddie’s hip. He lifts, and with the help of Eddie’s tight hold around his neck and waist, Eddie’s hips completely leave the bed and rest right up against Richie’s.

            Richie’s erection brushes over his backside and Eddie shivers and licks his tingling lips. When he opens his eyes, Richie’s glasses are fogged over. He pulls his arm from around Richie’s neck and plucks them off Richie’s face. He goes to wipe them on Mike’s shirt but he’s distracted by Richie’s heavy gaze. Eddie knows Richie is blind as a bat without his glasses or contacts, but he’s looking at Eddie like he can see right into his soul and his breath stalls in his chest. He cleans the steam off and slides them onto Richie’s face carefully, stroking a thumb under Richie’s right eye gently.

            Eddie leans in and kisses him deeply, hoping his affections are clear in it. He reaches down between them and grips Richie. Richie pulls away to stare down at Eddie without steam to block his gaze. He waits patiently while Eddie lines him up and then presses forward. Eddie gasps quietly, mouth falling open and eyes half lidded, and tightens his legs around Richie’s waist. He keeps his grip on him until it becomes nothing but a hindrance. He slides it up Richie’s abdomen, to his chest, and rests his hand on the juncture where his neck and shoulder connect.

            “You’re so beautiful,” Richie whispers to the air between them, his breath labored as he gently rocks his hips in slow deep thrusts. He swallows Eddie’s resulting moans, kissing him deeply and passionately. They both know they’d need to separate for Richie to get up to a solid pace, but they’re unwilling to part. Richie shifts Eddie’s hips, Eddie’s back arches, and he moans into Richie’s mouth, rocking his hips. Richie pulls away with a grin on his face and thrusts sharply, making Eddie choke on a breath.

            “Found it,” Richie says, pressing his lips to Eddie’s neck while he purposely rocks his hips, aiming for Eddie’s prostate every time. Eddie wants to give a witty come back but there’s unbearable heat and pressure building in his abdomen and all he can get out are these quiet high pitched sounds that always serve to embarrass him when he’s in his right mind. “Talk to me, Eddie-baby,” Richie breathes against Eddie’s ear, his useless glasses knocking against Eddie’s head, “How’s it feel?”

            It takes Eddie a moment but he finally gets out, “Full.” He rocks his hips a little more urgently, growing desperate, “Close.” Richie runs his lips along Eddie’s throat and jaw, kissing and nipping, as his thrusts become slightly faster and more erratic but no less deep. “Fuck,” Eddie gasps, burying his fingers in Richie’s hair. He’d reach between them to get himself off, but his dick is trapped between their bodies and that’s apparently all the friction he needs. He grips Richie’s hair a little tighter, tosses his head back, and feels his breath stall in his chest as he comes between them.

            Richie groans and his hips stop for a brief second, buried deep while he enjoys the clenching and unclenching heat on his cock. Eddie feels hypersensitive but he presses his lips to Richie’s ear and says, “Move.”

            Richie grips Eddie’s hip tightly, bows forward, and buries his face against Eddie’s throat, and starts his thrusts up again, faster and rougher than before, desperately chasing his own orgasm. Eddie pants and kisses the top of Richie’s head, still damp from his shower and now from sweat. “Come on, come on,” Eddie urges him on, stroking Richie’s mop of hair, “Come for me, so good for me.” Richie whines, panting wetly against Eddie’s throat, his hips stuttering.

            He tugs gently at Richie’s hair until he lifts his head. His face is flushed, mouth hanging open, and his glasses are starting to fog up again but behind it, his pupils are blown wide. Eddie presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose and runs his hands down over Richie’s bowed spine. “Come for me, ‘Chee,” he says it barely above a whisper but the effect is immediate. Richie’s orgasm washes over him. He drops his head forward, hips jerking with a gasp, and he moans loudly into Eddie’s clavicle. He gives two more harsh thrusts that make Eddie gasp and rocks him slightly up the bed before finally stilling.

            They pant heavily against one another, Richie’s arms and legs are shaking where he’s trying to keep himself from dropping all his weight on Eddie’s body. After a moment, he slowly pulls out, pulling the condom off, tying it off, and tossing it in the trash before he throws himself onto his side next to Eddie, nearly falling off the small bed. He flails and grabs Eddie instinctively to keep himself up. They laugh breathlessly.

            Eddie reaches up and curls his fingers into Richie’s hair, curling a strip of hair around his finger. Richie buries his face into Eddie’s neck and shoulder with a euphoric grin. “Can’t believe you had a fucking giggle fit while I was fucking you,” Richie grumbles, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder.

            “Let’s not pretend that was the first time,” Eddie shoots back, sporting his own blissed out smile.

            “Yeah, but that time was sort of on purpose,” he replies, nipping Eddie’s shoulder playfully, “You got so _tight_.” Richie is trying to give him a flirty look, but it’s undermined by his foggy glasses and the dopey grin that keeps overtaking his face. Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, plucking the glasses off his face again, cleaning them, before plopping them on his own face. He closes his eyes against the way the world distorts.

            “Yeah, okay, let’s pretend the first time was on purpose,” Eddie retorts, snickering while Richie shows a rare moment of embarrassment.

            “Fuck you,” Richie mumbles against Eddie’s skin but places a firm kiss to the same spot like he’s soothing the sting of his words.

            “Why didn’t you wear your contacts?” Eddie asks, pulling the thick lenses off to look over them, “Probably would’ve gotten yourself more attention.”

            “But you like ‘em,” Richie says it like he doesn’t realize it’s left his mouth, then he gets that embarrassed look again. A historic moment really. Richie Tozier embarrassed twice in just as many minutes. Eddie stares at him, wide eyed, warmth exploding in his chest while Richie avoids his eyes despite being unable to see. Eddie curls his fingers and tugs Richie’s head back so he can see his face and pushes the glasses back on Richie’s face.

            Richie looks horribly vulnerable, so Eddie kisses him before Richie has the chance to open his mouth and ruin it. There’s a thunk from behind Richie. Eddie props himself up on his elbow while Richie looks over his shoulder.

            Stan is passed out, his head has fallen back and knocked against the wood of his bedside table. His mouth is hanging open and he’s snoring. Eddie frowns, eyeing the bags under Stan’s eyes while Richie laughs.

            “Looks like Curlys had a wild night,” Richie jokes. Eddie whacks Richie’s hip with back of his hand.

            “Come on,” Eddie commands, sitting up. “We gotta clean up.” He grimaces at the drying semen on his stomach and carefully holds Mike’s shirt away from his body. Richie sighs, pulling his pants back up as he stands. He grabs the baby wipes from Eddie’s side table, a habit he’s picked up from Richie, and pulls out one for himself before tossing the pack to Eddie. Eddie cleans himself up quickly but meticulously while Richie rushes to Ben’s room, actually attempting to be quiet now that Bill has finally gotten back to sleep. He comes back with Ben’s Polaroid camera and snaps a shot of Stanley’s unconscious form.

            “For fucks sakes, Richie,” Eddie grumbles, fixing his clothes.

            “Hey, he barely left us any food,” Richie rationalizes, waving the Polaroid in the air while he places the camera onto the bureau, “I’m entitled to some blackmail.”

            “Just put him in the fucking bed,” Eddie demands, standing and walking over to Stan’s bed. He pulls Stan’s rumpled comforter back then bends down to remove the plate from the sleeping man’s lap. He’s about to move out of the way to let Richie lift him but stops and crouches down beside him when he sees some rice clinging to Stan’s chin and lap. Eddie gently wipes it away, fixing Stan’s clothes where they’ve rumpled.

            “Eds?” Richie asks in confusion.

            “He’s really miserable,” Eddie says quietly, stroking Stan’s hair back from his forehead. Stan snorts, but doesn’t wake. He strokes his cheek next and kisses Stan’s forehead before standing. When he looks at Richie, his humor has dimmed and he looks thoughtfully down at his sleeping friend. Eddie moves aside and Richie immediately bends down and hooks one arm under Stan’s knees and the other behind Stan’s back and lifts. He stares down at Stan’s face, but Stan doesn’t stir from his deep sleep.

            “He’s gotta quit that job,” Richie mumbles and very very carefully lays Stan out on the bed. He pulls the comforter over Stan and even goes as far as to tuck the comforter around Stan’s body and swipes his thumb over Stan’s sharp cheek bone. Eddie watches Richie in that intimate moment and feels his heart throb sharply. He wants to reach out for them but he doesn’t want to interrupt.

            “You wanna join him?” Richie asks Eddie without taking his eyes off Stan, his palm resting on top of the comforter where it’s draped over Stan’s rising and falling chest.

            “No, he needs to sleep as much as he can,” Eddie says shaking his head, sitting on his knees to begin making them both plates of food. “Should we turn the movie off?”

            “Nah,” Richie says, sitting cross legged beside Eddie, “He’s like an old man, he’ll jump up if you turn it off.” Eddie laughs and hands Richie his plate. They lapse into silence while they eat. When the movie ends, Eddie makes Richie bring the left overs to the fridge while he cleans up the floor and shuts the TV off.

            He crawls under his comforter and stares at Stan’s sleeping form while he waits. He looks over at the door and sees Richie toeing the threshold of the bedroom like he isn’t sure if he should stay or go. Eddie pulls back his comforter. Richie goes eagerly.

            “Wait,” Eddie says just as Richie is about to get in next to him. Richie freezes and looks momentarily panicked. “Unplug that fucking alarm clock.” Richie snorts and tugs the plug from its socket and the red numbers blink out of existence. Richie crawls into Eddie’s arms and wraps his arms and legs around him, burying his face into Eddie’s throat with a happy hum. Eddie wraps his arms around Richie’s shoulders, tucks his knee between Richie’s legs, and pulls the blanket tight around them both. Richie pulls his glasses off and puts them aside. Eddie nuzzles his face into Richie’s curls and sighs, relaxing.

            Richie snakes his hand under Mike’s shirt and starts rubbing Eddie’s back gently. Eddie scratches Richie’s scalp in response. Eddie can feel Richie’s tired smile pressed against his throat and he laughs quietly. Richie hums in question, gliding his short nails over Eddie’s back.

            “Did you make the right choice, ya think?” Eddie teases. Richie huffs a laugh and digs his large nose against the dip between Eddie’s collarbones in retaliation.

            “Don’t get a big head now, Eds,” Richie mumbles, his voice quiet and sleepy, “That’s my job.” Eddie grins into Richie’s hair.

            “I don’t think anyone could take that job from you.” Richie lightly pinches Eddie’s back for the remark then his hand goes lax. Eddie continues scratching his fingers through Richie’s hair long after Richie’s breath has gone slow with sleep. He listens to Richie’s quiet snores, staring at Stan’s sleep slack face while he thinks about Bill in bed next door, Ben whose taking a trip with his university to visit famous postmodern buildings, Beverly whose probably passed out in her sewing studio but will be home in the morning, and Mike whose visiting his mother in Derry, and he wonders how he’s been allowed this sort of happiness. He tries to think of the choices he’s made in his life but there were a thousand ways those choices could’ve gone completely wrong, some of them did go completely wrong, and he’s just more confused.

            Richie snuffles and tightens his hold, but doesn’t wake up. Eddie stops his scratching. Maybe the how isn’t important. Eddie presses a kiss to the top of Richie’s head. Maybe the result is what matters. He rests his chin on Richie’s head and closes his eyes.

            Maybe just keeping these moments close to his chest is what matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: I have a Tumblr now! Check it out and hit me up! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/anxiousbich
> 
> I didn't even intend to continue after the threesome scene but then shit just got away from me. I hope it was a fun read and the pron was good lmao
> 
> It got so sappy without me even noticing. Hope it wasn't boring lmao
> 
> There are so many things I wanna say in these notes and I always forget while I'm writing them.
> 
> (Oh yeah, btw, if you don't like a fanfic or you stop reading it for some reason or whatever, don't fucking say anything. Even if you think it's constructive, if it's negative, keep your fucking face shut. They're writing this for free and honestly it might be kinda messed up, but comments can make or break a fanfic writer. 
> 
> I saw someone do that to a fanfic writer I really like and they tried to be 'polite' and 'explain themselves' but it was just unnecessary and shitty. Because literally all it did was make someone feel like shit with no gain except to make the commenter feel better. Please don't do that shit.)
> 
> LEAVE ME YOUR COMMENTS SO I MAY THRIVE ON STRANGER'S VALIDATION


End file.
